


In Lucifer's Backseat

by followthattardis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cas's POV, Lucifer Possessing Castiel, M/M, basically a drabble of pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6764272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followthattardis/pseuds/followthattardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not just television that occupies Castiel while Lucifer wreaks havoc with his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Lucifer's Backseat

**Author's Note:**

> here, have angst with a side of fluff

 

“I was thinkin’ I could make carbonara tonight,” Dean muses. He takes a long pull from his beer and sets the bottle back down, balancing it precariously on his knee. “Did I tell you Sam texted not to wait up for him? He says it’s research, but I think the sly dog is gonna hit the bar.” He grins, like the idea of Sam roaming the bars in the Lebanon area in search of some hot action was the greatest source of brotherly pride. “So we can have dinner for just the two of us. I’d have to make a grocery run first, though. We’re running low on pretty much everything. I’m gonna hit the store on Main Street, so if you need anything I can grab it for you—”

“Dean, stop,” Cas murmurs. He rubs his cheek against the well-worn cotton of Dean’s t-shirt and tightens his left arm around Dean’s torso. “You don’t have to do this.”

A soft click of glass on the table lets Cas know Dean put away his beer bottle, and a moment later warm fingers grip his jaw, tilting it slightly so that their eyes can meet.

“I want to. We can go shopping together, if you want.”

“No.”

With a resigned sigh, Cas props himself on his elbow and abandons his warm spot in the crook of Dean’s arm. For a few seconds, they simply watch each other, the low hum of water running through the bunker’s pipes the only sound in the room. Dean looks a little confused and equally concerned, his brow furrowed as he waits for Cas to speak. His lips are still damp with his last sip of beer, his plaid overshirt rumpled and his hair a mess where Castiel’s fingers have been raking through it for the past half hour.

He’s beautiful, and Cas wonders if maybe his subconscious has overdone it.

“I meant that you don’t have to pretend.”

The crease between Dean’s brows deepens.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to pretend this is real,” Castiel clarifies. “That there’s some life outside of here, with Sam and hunts and grocery shopping. This is enough.”

A short beat of silence passes. Dean blinks. Once, twice.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“What I want is your company,” Cas replies simply. He rests his head on Dean’s chest again, looping both arms around him and drawing him close. Dean follows his lead without question, instinctively making space for Cas and gripping him with surety that betrays the illusion.

Cas chooses to ignore how out of character this is for Dean, yet on some level he's still aware of it. Dean would never  _snuggle_ like that. He would be uncertain and wary of such intimacy. Maybe he'd simply refuse to do this. Castiel can practically see it, can picture Dean shaking him off with an embarrassed, self-conscious laugh, blurting something about dudes not clinging to dudes and topping it off with a pop culture reference.

Eyes closed, he buries his face in Dean’s t-shirt and pretends he can overlook how it doesn’t smell _quite_ right.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean whispers. He brushes a kiss against Castiel’s forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. It’s so sweet it borders on impossible. “If you know none of this is real, why do it?”

Castiel tries to shrug, but Dean is holding him too close, too tight.

“It’s as real as I’m ever going to get. I don’t mind.”

Dean scoffs, and his breath ruffles Castiel’s hair.

“Yeah, right. Of course you don’t.”

Now that – that sounds more like Dean.

“It’s going to hurt like a mother when you go back to him and you can’t do it anymore.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not going back.”

Dean stills underneath him, his breath catching slightly. Cas doesn’t understand why; he knew this. He knows everything Castiel knows, because he’s nothing more than a construct of his mind.

“You’re not?”

Cas’s fingertips begin to dance along the ridge of Dean’s spine.

“There are many possible outcomes of this situation,” he mutters. “Few of them end well for me. Regardless of whether it’s Amara or Lucifer who wins, I don’t expect to make it out alive. Why do you think I’m indulging in all of this?”

“Wait, so that’s your idea of going out with a bang? _This_ is your last hurrah? Gettin’ snug and cuddly with a Dean Winchester knock-off?”

“I take back what I said before. Pretend a little.”

“Cas—”

“Please.” He slides his palm up, curls it around Dean’s neck. His skin is so warm there, so life-like.

Dean looks down at him and slowly mirrors the gesture, his own hand sinking into Castiel’s hair. It seems like he wants to say something, but one pleading look is enough to change his mind. Instead, he licks his lips and leans in.

“No, not this.”

This is a line Castiel will not cross. Besides, he’s never tasted Dean’s mouth. He wouldn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.

The Dean in front of him sighs and turns his head away, just far enough that there’s no risk of their mouths meeting by accident.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Your call.”

And then, because Castiel still has some control over his own mind, Dean plays along. Quiet, idle comments about spaghetti ingredients and spring cleaning soon lull Cas into a blissful state of near-sleep, as far away from reality as he’s allowed to go within his own head.

When the real Dean begins to pray, frantic pleas and promises in the early hours of the morning, his words don’t make it through the walls of Castiel’s carefully constructed dream.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable link](http://debatchery.tumblr.com/post/143947687602/in-lucifers-backseat-950-words-deancas-i-was)


End file.
